


Only Little

by 5bluetriangles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression, Alternate Universe, Crying, Daddy!Steve, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Little!Tony, Littles Are Known, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Hatred, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unreliable Narrator, aka Tony, caregiver!Steve, daddy!Phil, eventually i promise, little!Clint, so warning; tony is not a mentall well individual, there WILL be talk of Howard being a shitty parent though, there will be no physical punishment of any kind, we will see them in the future i promise, will come up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22183681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5bluetriangles/pseuds/5bluetriangles
Summary: Tony is a little without anyone to take care of him. Even worse; he isn't letting himself spend time in his headspace, and it's taking a tole on his wellbeing. A change is the only option for Steve; who discovers how badly his teammate and friend is suffering.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 307





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory warning that this is a fic concerning littles and caregivers with NO sexual content whatsoever and please respect that! The littles in this story regress to very real childlike headspaces and anything sexual would be very inappropriate.
> 
> Also, sorry for if/when you find typos ;__;

Steve had a hunch.

He wasn’t nearly as perceptive as Natasha; he couldn’t clock someone with the mere effort it took to breathe, but given enough time with someone, he could grasp a pretty good understanding of them.  
  
And it hadn’t taken too long until he had noticed that something was…off about Tony Stark.  
  
Not wrong, just off.  
  
And it wasn’t that he was just eccentric, which he was.  
  
It was an accumulation of things that led to such a suspicion; Tony’s inability to take care of himself, the way he would leave gadgets around the tower only to lose them and enlist help in his panic, the way he tended to be found napping in the late morning or early afternoon, how despite how much he seemed like he didn’t care what people thought; he was sensitive when criticism came from the ones he loved, how he would overtly come to members of the team to receive validation for cool things he’d done.  
  
Really, how was no one noticing this?  
  
Well, no, Steve had what he thought was a pretty good guess as to why it seemed to be unknown, and as much as the idea made his heart ache for his friend; he kept his mouth shut.  
  
He wasn’t about to go telling people someone’s private business or confront them if they didn’t want it known.  
  
He had no idea how Tony was managing it, but he was willing to let it go and keep it to himself unless things changed.  
  
And then things changed.  
  
It was a bit past two in the morning, and Steve was on the communal floor reading peacefully in the light from the kitchen that filtered into the living room because he had been unable to sleep. Down here with a book on the couch, he could enjoy the quiet stillness in the dim light rather than lying awake in his bed with bad memories to keep him company.  
  
He never saw anyone down here at this time, not even Tony, little night owl that he was, and he was free to lounge on the sofa alone with whatever novel he was reading at the time in a pair of comfy sweats and a t-shirt.  
  
Tonight, was different though.  
  
He had been finally reaching that place where he was beginning to debate going back up to bed to try going to sleep again when the little light above the elevator flicked on and when he glanced over at it; it showed that it was coming _down_.  
  
Sometimes, Steve would get to witness Tony going up to bed after a late work night, but it was always as the elevator went _up_ from his lab _past_ the communal floor and to his penthouse.  
  
He could hear it getting closer, and closer, and suddenly there was a soft ding that sounded a lot louder in the quiet before the doors slid open to reveal a familiar little figure.  
  
Tony shuffled out, clutching a comforter and sheets in his arms and looking for all the world like he didn’t belong as he uncertainly wondered out to cross the room, presumably to the laundry room from the way the linens were balled up. His shoulders were hunched and uneasy and his steps lacked their usual confidence. Almost like he was sneaking. Timid. As if anyone would even know he was here if Steve hadn’t happened to be down here reading.  
  
Why would he be doing laundry at two in the morning?  
  
Steve lowered his book, offering a careful “hey Tony” because, well, his presence was most likely going to startle the man no matter what and he might as well be polite and announce that he was there rather than let Tony spot him sitting there watching him. He had a distinct feeling that he was witnessing something that he wasn’t supposed to, and it made his skin prickle uneasily. Was Tony alright?  
  
Tony jerked, scared, and spun to stare at him through the dark with wide eyes, squeezing his laundry closer to him defensively.  
  
The reaction was about what Steve expected from startling a man who didn’t like to be startled whatsoever.  
  
Except…Tony wasn’t relaxing.  
  
He wasn’t loosening up his body language and chuckling and giving him sass for scaring him, he was just…standing there. Frozen.  
  
Steve sat up, setting his book down on the coffee table, worry written all over his face. “Are you…” he began, taking all of his friend in and trying to figure what was wrong, before—  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh, dear.  
  
Even with the dim glow from the kitchen backlighting Tony; he was lit enough to see now that his pants were completely soaked, and a shaky little breath reached Steve’s ears, followed by a small hiccup and choked off noise.  
  
“Oh, Tony,” Steve said, voice thick with pity and concern as he stood up quickly to go over to him.  
  
Except when he did so; Tony began to cry.  
  
It was a short trip, only several paces, but by the time Steve reached Tony the man had dropped his evidently soiled linens to instead cover his face.  
  
Tony seemed so _small_ in front of him now, sobbing earnestly, little body shaking, and clothes ruined as he snuck around in the dark to get rid of the evidence of his accident and oh how Steve’s entire self _ached_. It was his job to care for littles and it had been so, so long since he had done anything other than babysit and here was one of his closest friends _dropping_ hard and fast right in front of him.  
  
“Oh honey, oh sweetheart” he was murmuring, just loud enough for Tony to hear him as he held both the man— _boy’s_ trembling shoulders. “Can I hug you?”  
  
Tony didn’t even look at him, just uncovered his face to open his arms, clearly desperate, face flushed with his crying and twisted in anguish.  
  
Steve’s heart broke right then and there, and he grasped Tony as soon as he was given permission; pulling the boy in close and hiding him against him firmly. “Shh, you’re okay sweetheart. It’s okay. Everything’s alright.”  
  
Tony crumpled against him, pressing his teary, snotty face into his chest, and he had to hold him up as the boy gripped at him like he had never been held before and _wailed_. Steve had never seen Tony cry, and he couldn’t help but wonder now if it was because Tony _didn’t_ cry, which was distressing on a whole new level because his hunch was now clearly true and that’s just something littles _did_. They cried, they needed comfort, they needed care. Who was taking care of Tony?  
  
“That’s right” he hushed, rubbing the boy’s back soothingly. “Just let it out. I’ve got you.”  
  
Tony’s fingers clawed in Steve’s shirt as he gasped frantically for air between his uncontrollable cries, clutching at the man like he would perish without him.  
  
“Do you have someone you want me to get for you? Where’s you mommy or daddy, Tony?”  
  
Steve’s biggest fear became real when there was the smallest of pauses before Tony began sobbing even harder and louder than before, shaking his head where it was buried in his chest.  
  
“Okay. Okay, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you” Steve whispered, trying to keep the way his heart was splitting open out of his voice. He knew in his mind that he didn’t just mean for right now. Tony didn’t have anyone. Was he being little at all? It wasn’t like he would die from not being little, but it was unhealthy and self-destructive and resulted in drops just like this. It wasn’t sustainable, it wasn’t _safe_.  
  
It took Tony a long time to calm down, but he eventually cried himself out, leaving him sniffling and tired and Steve only loosened his grip on the boy when he began to shift in his arms.  
  
“I’m sorry” Tony mewled, voice small and raw, and Steve didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but he wanted to put a stop to it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured, pulling back just enough to look Tony in the eyes and wipe tears from his cheeks.  
  
“I’m sorry I make a—a mess. I’m sorry I yucky a-and gross and—” Tony couldn’t even finish, his face scrunching up and fresh tears running down his cheeks as he brought his hand up to chew on his pinky and _goodness_ was he little.  
  
Steve kneeled down, cupping Tony’s face and urging him look down at him. “It was just an accident. It’s okay to have accidents, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”  
  
Tony didn’t look so sure, looking at him with teary ears through his shaky little sniffles and hiccups as he half-heartedly sucked on his thumb now. So little.  
  
“We’ll get you cleaned up, okay?” Steve said, rubbing Tony’s shoulders. “You’ll feel better once you’re all clean.”  
  
He stood back up, but rather than just pick Tony up; he opened his arms in offering, chest feeling like it might burst as Tony hesitantly accepted it and reached out for him. The serum let him lift the boy without issue, plucking him up by the underarms and settling him on his hip as Tony clung to him in surprise. He didn’t seem to dislike it though; wrapping his arms around his neck and hiding his wet face in his shoulder.  
  
Steve shushed him gently, carefully bending down to collect the linens off of the floor and head to the laundry room. “Just gonna put these in the wash for you real quick” he explained as Tony turned his head, resting his cheek on him as he looked around the room with his thumb in his mouth again.  
  
Steve was as speedy as he could be about starting the load of laundry; tossing the linens in with a little “bye-bye blankets” and pouring in the detergent before shifting Tony in his arms to look at the boy. He had a little bit of pee soaking into his own clothes from the ruined pants, but he hardly cared. “Now how about we get you out of those yucky clothes?”  
  
he asked. Tony looked tired, and his eyes were still a little glossy, but he had calmed down, and he hesitantly nodded even if he wouldn’t look at Steve in return. The boy needed a pacifier, the man decided as Tony continued to suck on his thumb.  
  
“Do you want to undress yourself or do you want help?” Steve asked before carefully set Tony down at the pleading look he got in response, working the boy’s pants and underwear down to his ankles. Tony stepped out of them, wiping his eyes and sniffing, before Steve helped him out of his socks and tossed them all into the washer too.  
  
Tony whimpered sadly, tugging at his shirt and looking up at Steve pointedly with a little frown to show him how the very bottom of it had gotten wet as well and Steve dutifully pulled that over his head to add it to the rest of the laundry.  
  
Steve then dug through the clean clothes in Tony’s particular basket behind them in search of suitable clothes.

He of course didn’t find any kids clothes; Tony had clearly wanted to keep himself secret, but he found a pair of sure-to-be comfortable sleep pants and a t-shirt soft from age along with a pair of boxer briefs to put on the floor next to Tony for a moment. He managed to find what he needed next; a box of baby wipes up on the shelf above the washer and dryer, and he got it down to crouch in front Tony once again as he opened it up.  
  
“I’m gonna clean you up, okay? Just tell me if you want to do any of it by yourself” he said, giving Tony the option as to not overstep his bounds. The boy simply watched him though. He even let him wipe his face free of tears and snot.  
  
Cleaning up after an accident was a lot more work when only using wipes, but it was late and he wasn’t about to put Tony through a bath, not to mention that the fact that the boy was letting him do this in the first place was a miracle. It made sense though; after such a hard drop it wasn’t entirely surprising that he was just sitting back and letting himself be taken care of. Which was good, because the boy was absolutely in no condition to be facing this on his own.  
  
Tony was sluggish but helpful when Steve got him into underwear and pants and hesitantly took his thumb out of his mouth for the man to put the chosen shirt in him before sticking it back in and looking up at look expectantly.  
  
“Just a moment,” Steve smiled, closing the washer and starting it up before sticking the baby wipes back where they go and picking Tony back up like the boy clearly wanted.  
  
Tony didn’t talk much, or at least, not right now, and he seemed content to just hold onto Steve with such need that it was becoming progressively clear that the boy had been needing this for longer than Steve could guess.  
  
Nothing was questioned when Steve brought Tony back into the main room and carried him into the kitchen to place his bottom atop the counter, squeezing his shoulder gently, kindly.  
  
“Do you want a drink, honey?”  
  
Tony nodded. “P’ease,” he mumbled around his thumb.  
  
Steve smiled and resisted the urge to give the boy a kiss on the forehead as he dug a sippy cup out of the cupboards and filled it up with nice cold tap water while Tony watched. He didn’t _truly_ know whether it was age appropriate or not, but it seemed to be, and regardless; it was what they had in the tower other than the lidded cups with little straws that seemed too old for him. They were Clint’s, who was…sort of able to drink from a cup, but he spilled more often than not, and he had been ecstatic over the cups with straws because it validated him being a “ _big_ boy, Uncle Steve!” while also preventing mess.  
  
Steve attempted to hand the sippy cup to Tony briefly before realizing his mistake and placing it on the counter next to him where the boy peered at it for a moment and then picked it up, using both hands to hold it up to his mouth.  
  
He was clearly thirsty after all his crying; and gulped down the cool, refreshing water as quickly as he could, which Steve would normally warn against doing, but wasn’t interested in insisting upon. Tony had had a hard night. And he had to be careful anyway; this was a drop, not Tony offering up for him to care for him. They would have to talk when he was big again, which Steve admittedly wasn’t totally thrilled about. Tony Stark had a lot of walls in place.  
  
Tony pulled the sippy cup away when he was finally finished, gasping for air but looking refreshed and Steve couldn’t help but chuckle as the boy wiped his mouth and handed the sippy cup to him aimlessly.  
  
“All better, huh?” Steve smiled, taking the proffered drink. “What about some sleep now?”  
  
“Uh-huh” Tony said, utterly willing, but then pausing and suddenly he wasn’t so much anymore if the look on his face was anything to go by.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
Tony looked up and his and Steve’s eyes met as he seemingly searched for trustworthiness for a few moments and thankfully, appeared to find what he was looking for.  
  
“What if…what if I have ‘nother accident?” the boy asked in a very small voice, gaze flicking down to instead be enraptured with the bottom of his shirt as he played with it.  
  
Steve hummed.  
  
It would make sense to give him something if he had issues with it.  
  
Well…he knew Phil had some pull-ups left from when Clint was struggling with nightmares.  
  
But it was also getting close to three in the morning…  
  
“I’ll call Coulson and ask him for a pullup, okay?” he asked when he saw the embarrassed but truly concerned look on Tony’s face and fished his phone out of his pocket.  
  
It rung three times before the call was picked up and there was still a beat before Phil answered with a clearly sleepy “…Steve…?”  
  
“Hey Phil, sorry for calling so late” Steve immediately apologized. “But I’m in a bit of a situation, and I was wondering if you could meet me on my floor with a pull-up or two?”  
  
There was the sound of blankets rustling and the breathy noises of someone making an effort to wake up, maybe rubbing their face, before a “what? Why?” sounded over the phone.  
  
Steve looked over at Tony pitifully, the boy loosely hugging himself, and replied “I’ll tell you later.”  
  
The boy didn’t pose a fuss about riding the elevator up to Steve’s floor, but didn’t want to be put on the couch, and so the man gently bounced him around the living room until the elevator dinged and Tony flinched at the doors opening.  
  
Phil came in a few steps, clutching the prized pull-ups in his hand and wearing a pair of boxers and a tank top before he took pause and looked at the two in the room with confusion. To his credit though; he didn’t make a thing out of it, only took a moment to let the cogs in brain turn before making his way over and handing the delivery over to a very gracious Steve.  
  
“How long has this been going on?” he asked.  
  
“An hour” Steve replied dryly.  
  
Both shock and amusement flickered in Phil’s eyes as he crossed his arms, eyeing Tony fondly even with the boy determinedly hiding from him in Steve’s arms.  
  
“He dropped,” Steve offered up as explanation, and Phil sighed in the particular way someone did when they were disappointed but not surprised.  
  
Phil did it a lot.  
  
“Well, best of luck to the both of you” the man said, his voice sincere. “And keep me as informed as I’m allowed to be. Goodnight.”  
  
Steve wished Phil a good night as well, and returned to gently bouncing Tony as he left, soothing the boy who didn’t seem _completely_ comfortable about someone else having shown up.  
  
“How about you spend the night here with me, sweetheart?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little nervous to post this tbh! This is really just a fic i'm writing to help myself feel better and while it has a basic premise of growth and healing; I don't entirely know where i'm going with this story. I have a little bit more written already so far but i'm posting this first chapter alone first cuz i might go back and make little changes as I progress through chapters. Unfortunately, do not expect routine updates as I am just writing this as it comes to me, so asking me when the next one will be won't make anything come out faster! Comments with suggestions for future chapters or scenes or anything like that will be happily accepted though! :) I haven't posted my writing in a long while (and only have a few posted stories that are relevant to my interests now) and I've got a few stories going so hopefully I can get back into doing so around school and life craziness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind comments on the first chapter ^w^  
> Warning for poor sad Tony who's full of self hate and past traumas :'(

For the first time since he was in MIT with Rhodey; Tony fell asleep feeling utterly safe.  
  
Curled up and pressed against Steve with his face hidden in the man’s chest; nothing could get to him. Steve’s blankets were soft and fluffy and breathable and Steve himself was warm and solid and he had been tucked in and held close all night.  
  
When he awoke though; Tony didn’t feel small anymore.  
  
Or, at least, not fully.  
  
It probably wouldn’t take much to go back under, just a push, but he was above the surface for now.  
  
He blinked blearily, just sitting there and breathing for a few minutes in the comfort of the bed until he became aware that he wasn’t in his own and the shame came flooding back, crashing and swallowing him up.  
  
He was powerless against the remembrance of his actions last night slamming into him and he sat up in bed sharply with a horrible twisting sickness in his gut as he clutched at the comforter.  
  
He was alone, that much was clear by the empty bed and room and he looked at the door like it was some sort of beast.  
  
Steve knew.  
  
Steve knew and he had _taken care_ of him.  
  
It had felt good, too; Tony felt refreshed and relieved like washing filth from your body after hours of enduring it. Years of enduring so much and being big, but just one night of someone seeing him vulnerable and he came crashing down. What was different about Steve that had him dropping instead of just putting his meticulously built walls up and protecting himself?  
  
He was supposed to be strong.  
  
He was supposed to be strong and repress all this.  
  
He was Tony Stark; he wasn’t allowed and didn’t have the time to be little.  
  
Sure, Clint did, but Clint wasn’t him. Didn’t have the weight of his life on his shoulders alone.  
  
Tony didn’t hate other littles, but he hated his little side. Hated that he needed to be cared for and comforted after years of his father telling him how pathetic he was and how he would never get anywhere in life because he couldn’t handle himself.  
  
Tony had to be big.  
  
The most he wavered was the times he would cry quietly to himself at night, hugging his pillow in lieu of something better.  
  
He knew the risks, but he did what he had to do.  
  
He hadn’t dropped like that in years; just hung in limbo between headspaces sometimes.  
  
Tony sat in the middle of Steve’s bed; face in his hands to shield himself as he wallowed in his self-hatred and ran through his behavior from last night again and again.  
  
It wasn’t as if he had had no control over himself, or that it wasn’t him; it was just that he had plummeted into headspace and quite truly had the mind of a child. And he had acted accordingly.  
  
His mind wasn’t taking that as an excuse though.  
  
Tony drug his hands down his face, breathing shakily, before his lips tightened and he ripped the blankets off of him to trudge into the bathroom.  
  
He was a bit over-aggressive as he tugged down his sleep pants to dispose of the pullup he had been dressed in, and when he got his pants back on; he felt more proper. He decidedly ignored the feeling of loss in the back of his mind though, closing his eyes and taking a deep calming breath before stepping back out into the bedroom.  
  
The alarm clock on the bedside table read eleven fifty-three.  
  
Not awful for Tony after a bad night; but very late for Steve.  
  
Which was good, of course, because that lowered the chances of him being around.  
  
So, Tony opened the bedroom door, took a few paces out into the hall…  
  
And was hit with the smell of cooking pancakes.  
  
They smelled heavenly, better than anything Tony had smelled in a long time, and yet he was met with dread at the fact that he wasn’t alone.  
  
He crept down the hall, peeking out into the living room and kitchen to see Steve bent over slightly at the stove as he intently monitored his pancakes and flipped them as needed. It was almost comical to see such a broad man tucking his arms into himself and doing such a domestic task, dressed in his button up and khakis and looking like he belonged in some suburban neighborhood full of kids and families.  
  
It made Tony’s heart ache in a sickly-sweet way that he had felt before when watching Steve.  
  
That he felt often when watching Steve. But perhaps Tony had shuffled, or breathed a bit too loud, or Steve simply felt eyes on him, because the man paused and turned to look at him before giving him the biggest, brightest smile that made him feel like the floor had dropped out beneath him.  
  
“’Morning Tony! Or, almost afternoon. It’s around lunch time, so I made some us some tasty pancakes. I was going to wake you up soon; they’re nearly done.”  
  
Steve’s blatant kindness and tone of voice made Tony want to cry, or maybe yell, or walk back to the bedroom and pretend he had never woken up, but he swallowed it all down to manage “I’m big, Steve” through his tightening throat.  
  
Steve’s smile slackened and he gave Tony a once over as if reevaluating before he adjusted it to be smaller and gentler.  
  
“Well, I made us pancakes. Please go ahead and take a seat, it’ll just be a minute.”  
  
Tony wanted to decline, was _going_ to decline, but he could see how different Steve was looking at him, a depth in his eyes that meant he had a lot on his mind and needed to discuss it. He wanted to decline on that too; but instead, he hesitantly approached and settled himself into one of the chairs at the dining table uneasily.  
  
Steve finished the last of the pancakes, set the table, and served both of them with a fluidity and ease that made Tony feel like he was toeing the line of his big headspace. He didn’t even get to serve himself, Steve did that for him, and he watched in shock as the man fixed up his plate in the exact way he liked; pancake cut into bite-sized pieces, syrup drizzled on top, and then every square inch covered in whipped cream.  
  
Since when had anyone bothered to remember something like that?  
  
The team remembered odd quirks or triggers of his like to not hand him things and what triggered his ptsd the most or how to work around his adhd, but something like how he liked his food? He could feel himself slipping, and swallowed around the lump in his throat, clinging on stubbornly to being big.  
  
In the time it took for Tony to get through one pancake; Steve got through two, and Tony nodded meekly when asked if he wanted another, trying not to let the comfort of a caregiver doing things for him get to him.  
  
“So,” Steve began once he settled back into his seat and picked up his utensils. “We should talk about last night.”  
  
“Should we?” Tony mumbled as he dug into his new pancake.  
  
Steve sounded like he almost felt bad, but he still replied with “Yes. We should. So…” he took a bite of pancake, gathering his thoughts. “Even if I don’t understand why you would want to keep you being a little secret; I can respect it. I can’t respect you hurting yourself though. You clearly don’t have someone taking care of you, and I doubt you’re going down by yourself, which—” Steve held his hand up to prevent Tony from interrupting, but not unkindly. “Which even if you were; I know isn’t enough. You should too.”  
  
“I’m…not going down on my own” Tony admit, and he didn’t really know why. He just felt like he could trust Steve with the information. He trusted Steve.  
  
Steve sighed, almost sadly. “Yes, I figured. Someone doesn’t drop like that unless it’s been…god, I don’t even want to think about you going that long, Tony. It isn’t safe.”  
  
Tony looked down at his plate, feeling less hungry now.  
  
He knew all of this already; why did Steve saying it to him make him feel so bad about it?  
  
“I—” Steve began, placing his fork down and running a hand through his hair, seemingly nervous. “I can help you find someone. You need someone. I’m not trying to overstep my bounds, I know you’re…well, you. But everybody has needs, Tony” he said before catching Tony’s eyes in his own, deep with intent. “I could take care of you. I’d like to, if you’d let me.”  
  
Tony stared across the table at Steve, the tight knot in his belly suddenly unfurling and twisting into a storm.  
  
Steve’s pretty blue eyes were kind and earnest and oh how Tony wanted to believe him.  
  
Steve probably even believed himself— the look in his eyes spoke of certainty; but he didn’t know Tony’s little side.  
  
Tony was attention starved, he was touchy, he was scared to be himself, he didn’t know how to play, he cried a lot and he wet the bed and Tony clearly remembered these things despite how long it had been.  
  
Just another thing to add to the list of things he hated about himself.  
  
There wasn’t anyone out there for him anyway, he knew that. And he couldn’t have anyone.  
  
But the fact that someone, _anyone_ , would want to take care of him -even if it was misguided- was just too much and he took a strained, shaky breath as he stood up with a jerk. His chair screeched along the floor and he tightened up, body tense and unshed tears burning his eyes.  
  
_Stupid little boy. Always crying.  
  
_“Oh, hon—Tony. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Steve said.  
  
His voice was so gentle and caring and Tony was falling, _falling_ , and _dammit_ this couldn’t happen.  
  
If Steve hadn’t already; he would certainly find out how pathetic Tony was now.  
  
A hand flew to Tony’s face to scrub at the forming tears and he tried to flee from his place where he stood at the table, only to run into his chair that was still pressed against the back of his legs.  
  
He stumbled, his feet got twisted up in the chair legs, and then he was plummeting forward, silent in the shock of it.  
  
He hit the floor hard, the chair came clattering after him, he heard Steve’s chair against the tile as the man scrambled to get to him, and that was it.  
  
He was wailing a split moment before the pain came.  
  
Steve scooped him up, shushing him reverently and holding him close where he knelt down on the floor, cradling his head against him. “Oh honey, oh I bet that hurt, didn’t it? I’ve got you. I’ve got you, shh.”  
  
It did hurt.  
  
Tony had fallen on his hip, and his whole left side -specifically his hip, arm and shoulder- were thrumming with agony as he clung frantically to Steve with his own cries piercing his ears. He was breathing in huge hiccupping sobs, pressing his face into Steve’s shirt and grabbing onto him in a way that showed exactly what he wanted to keep hidden about himself.  
  
Not again, he didn’t want to be crying in front of Steve again.  
  
“JARVIS” Steve called out, trying to hide the worry in his voice as to not upset Tony more. “JARVIS, is he okay?”  
  
“Sir is physically alright, although he will most likely develop bruises and his left hip should be iced” JARVIS replied. “He is in great emotional and mental need of comfort and care, although he has programmed me to where I can only inform people that are aware of his little class of this, and he has been lying to Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes about his wellbeing. Thankfully, you are now privy to this.”  
  
“Oh Tony,” Steve whispered, slowly rocking Tony in his lap.  
  
It wasn’t the worst pain Tony had experienced by far, but right here, right now; Tony felt utterly rotten.  
  
JARVIS had ratted him out, he was being a crybaby -in front of Steve nonetheless-, and he was _hurting_.  
  
Steve was helping though, admittedly; the rocking and the sweet nothings and the holding, like he knew exactly what to do.  
  
He was a caregiver. Of course, he knew what to do.  
  
Tony didn’t know how long they were there on the floor; with him sobbing his whole heart out and Steve simply listening and offering comfort, not telling him to be quiet or that he was being a baby or to get over himself, but eventually he no longer had the energy. He was pretty sure he didn’t have any more tears to cry, and the effort it took to keep crying was too much.  
  
It was some time after he quieted down to sniffles and shaky breathes that Steve gathered him up properly in his arms to pick him up and he let him, hiding his face against him. He had forgotten how much crying took out of him.  
  
Steve set him on the counter by the fridge and he watched with teary eyes as the man flitted around to collect a dish towel and a bag of frozen peas, feeling so small and vulnerable up off the ground with Steve taking care of him. He was picked back up once Steve wrapped the frozen peas up and wet a washcloth with cold water and he rubbed at his eyes as the man carried him over to the couch to sit them both down.  
  
“Can I see your face?” Steve asked, gently taking Tony’s hands away to clean him off with the washcloth. The boy fussed a little but held still while he was careful to not cover both his mouth and nose at the same time and got his face feeling nice and cool and free of tears and snot. “Maybe we’re not so ready to talk so grown up right now,” he said. “And that’s okay. How about we go slower. Was I going too fast? I’m sorry.”  
  
Tony wiped at his eyes with one hand to catch the excess tears that had escaped, the thumb of the other coming up in a desperate want to self soothe but he still managed to stop himself; chewing on his nail instead. _Cut it out._  
  
He whimpered slightly as Steve got them more comfortable, settling him on his right side in his lap and pressed up against his chest. It was cozy, it was good in all the ways he didn’t let himself have.  
  
The little homemade icepack was cold but no upsettingly so as Steve tugged his pants just over the jut of his injured hip to press it into where it hurt, soothing and numbing, and he finally let himself breathe as he hesitantly leaned on the man.  
  
Maybe just a little comfort? For a little while?  
  
“Let’s try slowing down” Steve said gently, still meaning business but speaking less like Tony was big and even though he wanted to be big instead; it was such a weight off his shoulders to not be expected to be. A load off that he only got to feel when Rhodey managed to visit.  
  
Tony sniffled and nodded just tiny bit.  
  
“Okay” Steve breathed. “So, you said you aren’t being little at all.”  
  
Tony shook his head.  
  
“Well that needs to be fixed. You need time to be little, honey. I’m gonna help you figure this out though, okay?”  
  
Tony didn’t really know how to feel about that.  
  
Rhodey and Pepper tried to get his unhealthy habits under control, but he was too firm in his ways and with neither of them in close courters anymore; he simply…lied. Which made him bad, he knew it did, but he wasn’t about to be paired with some stranger to take care of him for a list of reasons, so it was really just for the best.  
  
Point being; he didn’t believe Steve could manage to fix him, no matter what the man himself thought.  
  
After the silence stretched on for too long; Steve began rubbing his back. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”  
  
Tony shook his head.  
  
No, no he didn’t really have the capacity for explaining such complex thoughts. Or at least, what felt so complex.  
  
“Okay,” Steve said, rather than punishing him for such behavior as not speaking when spoken to. “Let’s see…” the man hummed, thinking up what the boy could be feeling. “Are you scared?”  
  
Scared, Tony wondered. Yes, well, he was scared of being little, overwhelmed by the thought of it, scared of Steve learning to much, scared of being vulnerable…  
  
He nodded, fingers catching in Steve’s shirt and curling in.  
  
“Okay. It’s okay to be scared.”  
  
Steve’s tone was so nice. Calming.  
  
“You haven’t been little in a long time. But I don’t expect anything of you except being whatever headspace you are, okay? That means all you need to do is let yourself be however you’re feeling. Like right now; you aren’t feeling very big, are you?”  
  
Tony shook his head with a small whimper.  
  
“Then don’t try do be. You just need let yourself be little right now, and we’ll talk grownup stuff when you’re ready for it, how does that sound?”  
  
It…didn’t sound all too bad when Steve said it like that.  
  
And, well, this was going to fail anyway…  
  
Maybe he could just play along until then.  
  
“Okay” he said quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> A little nervous to post this tbh! This is really just a fic i'm writing to help myself feel better and while it has a basic premise of growth and healing; I don't entirely know where i'm going with this story. I have a little bit more written already so far but i'm posting this first chapter alone first cuz i might go back and make little changes as I progress through chapters. Unfortunately, do not expect routine updates as I am just writing this as it comes to me, so asking me when the next one will be won't make anything come out faster! Comments with suggestions for future chapters or scenes or anything like that will be happily accepted though! :) I haven't posted my writing in a long while (and only have a few posted stories that are relevant to my interests now) and I've got a few stories going so hopefully I can get back into doing so around school and life craziness.


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